AN: Hello everyone, I finally worked up the nerve to post this, so here goes :P

This is my first fic i've ever actually posted, and i'm pretty excited about it :D Anywho, this chapter is centered around the pilot. It's a bit short due to Amaras involevement in the action, but the chapter length will increase later on. I'm excited for y'all to read it and to get your feedback :) Enjoy :)

"Oceanic Flight 815 to Los Angeles now boarding"

Taking a deep breath, Amara got up from her incredibly uncomfortable airport chair and headed toward the flight attendant to get her ticket checked. Holding her patchwork messenger bag close to her body, she patiently waited in line before entering the plane and heading to her seat. No other passengers had taken the seats in her row yet, so she didn't have to maneuver around anyone else's things while she put her bag in the overhead cabinet. Once everything was situated she took her seat (smack dab in the middle of the row) shook out her blonde curls, and set to tackling the Sudoku books she had purchased at the airport gift shop.

Engrossed in her puzzles, Amara paid no notice to the other passengers settling into the seats around her. At one point a woman in a purple blouse sat in the seat one away to her right, but Amara didn't really realize she was there until cleared her throat. Looking at her to see what was wrong; Amara saw her staring down the man who was placing his bag in their compartment. He caught Amara's attention immediately. The man had deep olive toned skin and longish curly black hair; he had an incredibly attractive face, and the rest of him wasn't bad either, her hazel eyes lingered on his nicely toned shoulders and chest.

"Damn Son…" she thought to herself, admiring him for another moment before realizing what had called her attention to him in the first place. Shooting a meaningful glare at the prejudiced purple-shirted woman she returned to her Sudoku, pausing briefly to smile at the man has he took the seat to her immediate left.

The first couple hours passed in silence, something Amara was absolutely okay with, she was nearly finished with her first Sudoku book when a hand came from her left and tapped the page.

"An eight goes there."

Startled, Amara jumped, eyes flashing towards the man, who chuckled,

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to alarm you." he said in a smooth Middle Eastern accent.

Amara laughed and shook her head,

"Oh no you're fine; I was just zoned out is all." She replied before looking back at her puzzle. He was right, and eight did go there. After marking it in, she turned her body slightly to face him more directly.

"Thanks for that, I had nearly given up on it." The man smiled warmly,

"I'm glad I could be of assistance." Smiling back, Amara held out her hand,

"I'm Amara." He shook it,

"Sayid."

Fast forward another couple hours and their conversation had moved far past Sudoku into subjects of a more personal manner. They'd already discussed what brought them to Australia (he was visiting old friends) and what they were doing in L.A. (visiting another old friend) currently, they were talking about their college years (he had gone to a university in Cairo "quite a while ago")

"So the professor calls me out right? She's all, 'Ms. McKinnon you need to cease whatever it i-'" The remainder of her sentence was replaced with the gasp that escaped her lips as the plane shook abruptly. Sucking in a deep breath she clenched her fists.

"A little turbulence is normal, it's nothing to worry about" Sayid reassured her. She nodded, but her fists remained tight, she wasn't terribly paranoid when it came to flying, but there was always that one in a million chance…

Suitcases rattled in the compartments as they hit another air pocket and the fasten seat belt sign pinged on in the front.

Shit

Her hands scrambled for her belt, which she promptly secured.

"I'm sure we'll be alright, they're just being cau-" Sayid's latest consolation was drowned out by the screams of other passengers (including her own) as the plane shook violently, sending suitcases and passengers alike flying about. The purple-shirted woman hadn't fastened her seatbelt and was thrown into the ceiling. She was lying in the aisle, presumably unconscious.

Amara and Sayid exchanged panicked looks, but before either of them could say anything, the plane shook again, stronger than before, and Sayid flung his arm across her chest, preventing her from getting knocked around. Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, and all the passengers were in a frenzy to put them on. Pure terror surged through Amaras body as she pulled the plastic mask over her face

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

Soon after, the horrible sound of metal tearing screeched through the air, followed by a sudden blast of wind. The back of the plane had been ripped off. Amara screamed into her mask as people and luggage blew past them and out. They were over the ocean; there was no way they would make it. Fuck, she was going to die. Clinging to her seat for dear life she frantically looked around what was left of the plane. The purple shirted woman was gone; and there was no foreseeable escape route, she didn't even know why she bothered to look in the first place.

Everything was in slow motion as debris continued to blow past, carry-ons tumbling through the air, some ripping open mid-flight. The sound of rushing air muffled the sound the cockpit made as it tore off, and the fuselage was on its own, careening towards certain death. Closing her eyes, Amara waited for her fate. A stabbing streak of pain shot through her body as something hard stuck her in the head. She saw stars for a moment, and then nothing.